


pas de deux

by thearcherballet



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet AU, Dancer AU, Liam Payne & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, M/M, Side Jesy Nelson/Jake Rixton, Side Leigh-Anne Pinnock/Jade Thirlwall, Side Niall Horan/Harry Styles, Side Niall Horan/Jade Thirlwall Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:29:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5033797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thearcherballet/pseuds/thearcherballet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1 :  a dance or figure for two performers</p><p>2 :  an intricate relationship or activity involving two parties or things</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to Sasha, Hela, and Mubina for the encouragement and help writing this part.  
> this may be the start of a multichapter/series revolving around them as dancers, depends on how this is received, so for now it's just this :)  
> also this is basically an indulgence because i love ballet and i needed a dance au (someone write a dance academy AU for everything pls)  
> (sasha kept sending me one thing lyrics so maybe you'll find some parallels to it like she did)  
> enjoy!

_One, two, three, four, five--_

_Squeak!_

Fuck.

He takes a deep breath and rubs his face.  He clicks on the radio’s control to pause the song mid-crescendo.

He drops to the wooden floor of the studio he’s being allowed to use for choreography.  His tights feel sticky against his legs, and he’s long-forgone his shirt in the heat-infested room.

Or maybe it was just him with his need to get this dance done as soon as possible.

He doesn’t think he’s perfect by any means.  He’s just in the corps of the biggest ballet company in Great Britain and was asked to choreograph a new pas de deux variation for the Royal’s new _Swan Lake_ for its anniversary _and_ a contemporary number for the gala that will follow.

There’s something to be said about never being promoted to Principal Dancer and featured in a ballet yet asked-- no, practically begged, to make a dance from scratch.

He’s seen every available performance from the Royal Ballet Theatre’s archives looking for inspiration.  He’s sat through the company’s choreographer’s sessions.  He’s still a clueless kid, he doesn’t know who he’s choreographing for, he’s basically grasping at straws here. Choreographing a pas de deux by himself is sad to say the least.

“Payno, you alive there?”

Liam covers his face with his sweaty arm, hoping the darkness could take him, or at least offer up some inspiration.

The guy enters the room, nudging Liam’s body with the toes of his slipper-boots.  “C’mon, get up, ya big baby,” says the guy, his Northern accent slanting his words.

“Tommo, I’m washed out, and I’m only 22 years old,” Liam groans.

“You really are, boy,” Tommo tsks. “Pity that, seeing as they’re announcing the leads for your ballet in 15 minutes in the main rehearsing studio.”

Liam lifts his arm to study his mate. He considers Louis’ carefree pose observing his fingernails with extreme interest while leaning against one of the barres.

“You’re joking, right, Louis?” Liam wishes really hard he was.  “I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing.  Why would Cowell put me up for this?”

“Because you’re wasting your talents dancing behind my ethereal form,” Louis says as a matter-of-fact.

He’s got a point.

“We worked our asses off to be here, Louis.”

“We did, now get up, and show 'em what you’re made of, Payno,” Louis then offers his hand to help him up.

Huffing, Liam accepts it and gets to his feet.  

“Do you think they’ll be inviting someone from up north? It’s been awhile since they picked someone to guest from the Northern Ballet,” he says putting his still-damp shirt back on. Liam gathers his stuff in his bag and walks out of the studio with Louis.

“I was too good, that’s why they haven’t picked anyone from up there.”

Liam scoffs at him, shoving him with his shoulder playfully and adjusting the strap of his bag.

“More like too annoying.”

Louis’ eyes flash as he screams out an “Oi!” at him and flings a bit of water from his bottle at him.  This only makes Liam shout the same thing back at him, since his shirt was a enough of a mess as is.

They arrive laughing and pushing each other into the studio, where the rest of the company don’t even bother staring at them, they’ve gotten used to it already.  

Whether they’ve grown oblivious to Liam and Louis’ playful rough-housing, they’ve already started warming up, but dancers are always warming up. When you’re a dancer you have to be ready for whatever they might throw your way.  And today, since they’re announcing the leads, they might be shown some new choreography so they have to be alert and as ready as possible.

Louis and Liam take their places on the floor, taking out warm up bands and black slippers from their respective bags to start their own stretching.

Liam feels he’s been worn thin.  He’d spent three hours trying to form some sort of coherent dance steps and all he’s got seems a bit recycled.

He could show Louis what he’s got, ask him to dance it through to see how it looks with a better dancer. He’s been recording the choreography from his phone (sacrificing what little phone storage he’s got left for the sake of dance), but he detests watching himself since he’s too hard on himself.

_You’ve gotten this far, right?_

Liam spreads his legs, flexing and pointing his turned-out feet.  Dancers’ feet are not pretty with their slippers off, but he’s got to admit that the arch of his feet were pretty sick.

Louis tries to snap his bands at his calves and he scowls back at the wiry boy.  Honestly, how has Louis been the lead for three different productions, there surely must be a conspiracy.  Though, he could see why more people bought tickets for productions with him as the lead than for Niall’s, Louis with his sharp features that make him look like a classic ballet prince.  

He winced at that thought.  That was mean.  Niall was an excellent dancer, if it weren’t for his bad knees.  How Niall had managed to stay afloat in the ballet scene with aching knees was a miracle.  But a dancer’s body can only take so much until surgery has to come into play.  It’s why they had to change leads at the last minute.  

He really hopes they choose someone from their company as their lead, and by someone he means Louis.  He can be a right prat when things don’t go his way, and he’s not evil or anything, he’d never risk his career in order to sabotage someone.  Louis just goes a bit… manic.

The last time someone had been given the lead it had been Nick Grimshaw for The bloody Nutcracker, which only made Louis get into a Twitter feud with him that made national headlines.

Liam grimaced. He couldn’t think about these things at the moment.  He needed to be thinking about costumes for the contemporary number and lighting cues and a million other things other than social media meltdowns.

“Did you know there isn’t any dance company in India?” Louis interrupts his thoughts.

Liam shakes his head.  

“Could you imagine a life without ballet?” Louis stretches and grabs his toes for a minute with acquired ease.

Again, Liam shakes his head.  “No, not really.”

There’s a million other things in the world he could be doing, but ballet is the only thing that makes sense.

“I mean, it’s not paradise,” Louis says resurfacing from his stretch.  

“But it’s home,” Liam grins and his friend swats at him.

Perrie, another one of the company leads, had just sat next to him, late as ever but Cowell hadn’t arrived yet so she wasn’t too bothered.  “I cannot believe you, you’re a walking cliché, Liam Payne.”

“A dancing one at that,” Liam retorts while stretching his arms.

Perrie sticks her tongue out at him, throwing on a couple of leg warmers. “Yeah well Simon’s on his way over here, he was just angrily speaking on the phone with someone, but I think it might be the new lead.”

At this, Louis perked.  “Did you say new lead?”

“I could just be imagining it, Simon sounds angry all the time anyway, right?” she says with wide eyes and Louis rolls his eyes at her.

“I’m gonna go chat with El, she probably has more info than you lot,” Louis huffs as he gets up and walks away with purpose, his prized tush swaying slightly.

“If I pin a needle on his arse, do you think it would just deflate?” Perrie whispers conspiratorially at Liam, making a raspberry sound.

“How about we first deflate the ego, then worry about his photogenic arse,” Liam says, garnering a loud guffaw from her.  She turns away from him in order to put on her shiny pointe shoes.

Liam starts to warm up along to the rhythm of everyone else's conversations. He could get inspired by this, create a dance out of the chatter of a group of adults passionate over movements. He wanted to write down the feeling he felt at the moment, translate it into choreography.

But the moment's gone as soon as Simon Cowell enters the room, commanding everyone's attention immediately.

"Morning, Company. I hope you're well-rested and ready for a new day," he says, trying to sweep the room with his intimidating brown eyes.

Weren't brown eyes supposed to be welcoming and warm?

"I'll get straight to the point, absolutely no pun intended. You're all here waiting for the announcement of the new _Swan Lake_ leads. Originally we had Niall Horan as the Prince and Jade Thirlwall as the White Swan. Thanks to unforeseen circumstances, that being Mr. Horan's weak knees, that has changed.

"Ms. Thirlwall refuses to dance with anyone that isn't Niall, so a new casting has had to happen. We had to look for someone that isn't from the Royal, though, so allow me to introduce to you Mr. Zayn Malik from the Northern Ballet."

Enter Zayn Malik, stage right, with his head held high and grey hair at the top of it and thick black eyebrows and a leather jacket to match.

They're all clapping, and Liam's first instinct is to look over to where Louis is trying to strike an intimidating pose with a smirk in place. This is completely diluted with Eleanor's kind and calm demeanor next to him. Liam swears she could be floating sometimes.

His second instinct is to size Zayn up. He hasn't done that since he was a teen and competing for a spot in the Royal Ballet's company. He looks a bit scrawny, but like Louis that could be misleading. He's seen Louis perform impossible lifts with Eleanor. The newcomer's legs look a bit disproportionate to the rest of his torso, but his shoulders look wide enough that, yeah he probably lifts weights. His face though, that's a whole other thought process that he's not allowed time to think about because Cowell's lifting his arms up.

"Mr. Malik will be playing the Prince. His partner will be Miss Perrie Edwards, playing the main role of Odette." Beside him Perrie lets out an excited squeal as everyone claps for her.

"This is only temporary, in case Miss Thirlwall changes her mind." Simon looks pointedly at the petite form near the front who seems to want to shrink more.

"The Black Swan will be played by Miss Eleanor Calder, along with Mr. Tomlinson's Von Rothbart."

Liam sighs in relief at that. It's not ideal but he's still one of the leads.

"The rest of the minor and supporting roles will be posted after today’s rehearsals, that is all, I’ll leave you to it. Mr. Payne,” Liam straightens in his spot, very aware of everyone’s eyes on him. “Could you come to my office after rehearsal?”

Without waiting for a response, he walks out of the studio, leaving a fidgeting Zayn Malik in front of the room.

Liam sucks in a breath when he sees Louis sidle up to Zayn and sneak his arm around his shoulders. “So, Zayn Malik, welcome to the Royal Ballet Theatre, would you like to tell us a bit more about yourself?”

Liam stifles his laughter with his hand as he sees the man in question roll his eyes at Louis’ antics. “I’m Zayn, I’m 22 years old, from the Northern Ballet’s company, same as you. I’m looking forward to this experience, yeah?”

He claps his hands in a succinct way then slips away from Louis’ grasp, sitting down away from most of the dancers, who were still giving him side-glances and whispering amongst themselves.

The ballet master then interrupted the dancers to call them to the barre to begin the day’s official warm up.  Throughout the rest of the rehearsal Liam most definitely didn’t think of how beautiful their new Prince was and how he moved with a fluidity that didn’t seem like any of the other boys’ in the company.

 

* * *

 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Liam says, sneaking his head into the Director’s office.  

“Yes, come in Liam,” Simon commands from his desk. Liam walks over to the cluttered desk and makes himself comfortable in one of the provided chairs.  He waits until Simon stops studying one of the sheets in his hands, looking over at the multiple certificates and trophies behind him.  

“Mr. Payne, how is the choreographing going?” he says, still not looking at Liam, rifling through the papers in his hands.  

“Well, it’s going. The pas de deux was hard to try and choreograph without knowing who I was choreographing for, and you still haven’t approved the dancers for the contemporary number,” Liam replies, wiping his sweaty palms against his joggers.

Simon finally decides to nail him with a look that has Liam gulping, and he starts rifling through papers until reaching a list that Liam is very acquainted with because he wrote it.

"You have Tomlinson at the top of the list?" he quirked his eyebrow.

"Yeah, like, I know he's a great dancer and I think he'd shine in the piece I'm creating," Liam says confused. "Why? Do you not agree?"

"I agree, but he won't be the lead for it," Simon says with an air of finality that leaves Liam perplexed.

"But, who else am I going to choose? I don't trust Grimshaw with a lead in contemporary, and Niall's out. I could choose one of the girls but I would have to change a lot of things," Liam stops when Simon lifts a hand up, realizing he's been rambling too much.

"Take Zayn."

Liam has to make an effort to remember who that was, until--

"Wait, the new guy? I haven't even seen him perform a contemporary piece, how would I know he's good for it?" Liam feels himself getting annoyed. Why is Simon making him do this?

"He's good, trust me, also he'll be rooming with you while Mr. Horan recovers back home."

At that, Liam gapes at his director, and tries to make a sound of protest to no avail.

“But, sir-”

“That is all Mr. Payne.” Simon’s tone didn’t leave much room for objection, waving him off.  

Liam balls up his fists, thinking he might punch something.  Instead he walks away from the office in simmering anger, thinking of very ingenious ways to murder ballet directors without it being tied back to him.

Without realizing it, he’s back in his private rehearsal room.

He lets himself burn away his frustrations through dance like he’s Billy fucking Elliot.  With every fouetté, glissade, grand jeté, and pirouette he managed to combine into his choreography, it was like all his problems evaporated.  With every kick that his extensions could manage, his responsibilities flew away too. He didn’t care for Zayn basically being thrust into his care. He definitely didn’t care about Louis’ future hissy fits because no one wanted to comply to his every wish. He particularly didn’t want to think about his lack of inspiration for the dance he’s supposed to have down to pat by now. For Zayn. For fucking Simon. For the old farts that will ultimately end up watching the performances and sign his paychecks.

He channels it all into saut de chats and trying to stick as many pirouettes into eight counts, keeping his spot on a smudge above the mirrored walls of the studio.

“That’s a bit excessive innit.”

Liam slips from his 4th consecutive pirouette, tries to stick the landing. Instead, he ends up in an almost squat, panting. He side-eyes the intruder leaning against the door with a smile, unruly dyed grey hair, and a jean jacket that would’ve made him look like a rebel if it weren’t for the fact that he knew he was most likely wearing tights under his joggers and had ballet slippers in his gym bag.

Liam straightens and picks up his water bottle from the floor. “I almost fell, could’ve injured myself.”

“But you didn’t,” Zayn replied, actually entering the room and leaning against one of the stray barres that get stored there and that Liam cleared against the walls so as not to hit himself with them. “M’Zayn, in case you didn’t know.”

Liam nods, noting that he doesn’t offer his hand to present himself, fully knowing that Liam was in the rehearsal studio. “Liam, which you probably didn’t know.”

“Why do you think I’m here? I know who you are.  I asked Louis who Liam Payne was and he just, like, rolled his eyes and told me I could find you here,” Zayn says offhandedly, which only makes Liam raise his eyebrows in silent bafflement.

Liam takes another gulp of water.  “Don’t you think that’s a bit creepy?”

“Don’t you think you should be the lead for this ballet? You’re pretty sick, man,” he says with a smile on his face that Liam doesn’t really know what to do with.

“I’m just in the corps, there are far better dancers in the company that belong as leads,” Liam replies, taking yet another swig from his bottle, very much aware of how shiny with sweat he must look. At least if he blushes, it would be hidden under the redness caused by exertion.

"I don't believe that," Zayn smirks while taking off his black trainers and throwing them on top of Liam's own mountain of shit.

"What are you doing?"

"You're gonna show me, like, what you have so far." He makes a point of slipping off his joggers, revealing his own tights underneath and just how serious he was being.

Liam goes back to the tried and successful method of ignoring Zayn’s body he’d done earlier.  Especially how he’d looked lanky at first but now he’s sure his calves were made of steel and sent from the heavens.

He clears his throat. “Right then, I’ll just play the-” he signaled towards the speakers in his lapse in verbal communication.

Zayn smiles at him and Liam looks away. “The song?”

“Yes, that, so you know what you’re dealing with, and then show you a video of what i have so far,” and Liam presses play before it, whatever that was, could go any further.

Zayn shrugs and closes his eyes after throwing himself to the floor with his arms behind his head, as if he were immersing himself into the song before going to sleep.

Liam doesn’t look at Zayn and how he flexes and points his toes subconsciously along to the song. Instead he tries to compartmentalize his previous frustration by doing some pas de bourrées in the middle of the room until the song ends.

Zayn rises up so he’s leaning on his arms on the floor, sizing him up like he’d done in the rehearsal room. “I like the song, Liam, show me what you got for the dance.”

“Let me get the phone then,” and Liam makes to get it from its spot on the stereo platform, but Zayn stops him.

“No, no, _show_ me.  I wanna see you, not a recording of you.”

Zayn’s grinning up at him, and Liam’s a bit taken aback.  He’s never had such eager spectators. Again, he’s lost for words, but he throws the control at Zayn and takes his position in what’s supposed to be center stage.  

He takes a deep breath and the music starts once more.  Liam glides around the wooden floor without caring about the evaluating eyes following him as he goes through the steps he’s formed for the individual male part.

He ends with a developpé devant that is supposed to introduce the part where the partner joins the dance, the music continuing to reverberate in the studio as he turns around with his hands on his hips to look at a very invested Zayn.

“That’s the best choreography I’ve seen in my years dancing, and I’m not just saying that because we’re gonna be living together and you could smother me in my sleep.”

Liam takes a second, and he starts laughing, like full-body laughing.  There was Zayn, clearly more talented than he ever would be, the image of a dance muse, and he was praising his subpar dancing that only got him so far into the corps. He felt he could burst. “Thanks then, mate,” he says under a huff of breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Why did you stop though?”

Liam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean? It’s a pas de deux, that’s where it would start with both dancers together at last.”

Zayn seems to mull it over in his head.  “So you’re stuck because no one, what? Wouldn’t volunteer to be lifted and held by you to help you?”

“Yeah, basically everyone is too busy doing their own thing,” Liam rolls his eyes and offers Zayn a hand to help him up. “But now you’re here and I can actually do this shit.”

Zayn cracks his neck when he gets to his feet. “Let’s do this then, show me, master of dance.”

“Shut it, you’re gonna be my puppet for today, following my every command,” Liam says, leaning into Zayn’s side, feeling his laughter and being affected by it.

“I’ve already, like, got some of the beginning memorized already. S’ hard to forget you,” Zayn gives him a cheeky grin and Liam pushes him to the point where he’d started off.

“Show me what you actually got, without the song on.”

Liam’s partner rolls his shoulders, shaking his arms a bit to get some energy pumping through him.  Then, as Liam starts off the counts of eight, he’s stuck in awe as Zayn recreates the choreography step by step, only messing up twice, and it was because he missed a passé that was worth two counts instead of one so he was early for the arabesque that followed it.

When he finished with the same developpé that Liam did, Liam knew he was fucked.  There’s no way in hell he’d looked that good, and Zayn looked like he wasn’t even trying.

“You’re perfect. They should give you all the leads for all the ballets, because you didn’t even break a sweat there did you?” Liam groans, to which Zayn merely laughs, his rich brown eyes crinkling at the corners.  All of a sudden he has a burst of inspiration, and wants to show Zayn every single thing he’s thought about doing, show him lifts that he’s never before thought of demonstrating because he thought they were a bit too risque for ballet.  He wants Zayn to be the conduit of his own creations, and only Zayn.  He knows then and there why Jade and Niall clicked as partners.  This was going to work.  Liam smiles at the beautiful dancer waiting expectantly for his next instructions.

“We have work to do.”

  
  
  



	2. part deux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay!! i wasn't sure whether to write the whole thing or just post chapters but i ended up just choosing the shorter of the two bc otherwise i would never finish and i'm thinking about other things i have to write too so  
> but let me know what you think!  
> sasha, thank you for always cheering me on! you're a star!

_I got the magic in me! Every time I touch that track it turns into gold-_

Liam blearily slides the phone screen to stop his alarm and throws it under his pillow.  Light is starting to trickle in through the blinds that cover his bedroom window.  Dust particles dance slowly in the air and he gives himself a few moments to admire the grace with which they travel through the air without a set destination.

He screws up his eyes and stretches in his bed, regaining feeling in his toes.

Liam walks over to the bathroom he used to share with Niall, fully intending to brush his teeth, pee, and go get started with his morning workout.  Instead, he finds his new flatmate in the middle of a passé in front of the bathroom mirror, all the while gurgling some mouthwash.  He squints happily at Liam, dropping his foot from its position on his pajama-clothed knee.  Zayn spits all the liquids in his mouth out down the drain, taking the time to splash some water on his face and flicking some to Liam’s own to make him flinch.

“Morning, it’s too early to be glaring at everything, Liam,” he says and Liam realizes he’d been doing so.  

“Actually, I think it’s very appropriate considering it’s almost six in the morning,” Liam replies with a perfectly timed yawn at the end.

Liam picks up his own cheap blue toothbrush, still looking at Zayn through the mirror.

Zayn dries his face and hands with his dark green towel before addressing him again. His dark hair is still not combed so it falls over his forehead which only makes him look softer than should be allowed at this time of the morning. “Normally I sleep in until two, but since I got called in for 9am rehearsal, gotta get a head start, yeah?”

Liam, with a mouth full of toothpaste, hums in agreement.

“What about you? What do you usually do if you’re up now?” Zayn says, leaning back against the wall and watching him with amusement.

Liam spits on the sink, rinsing his mouth before answering. “Have a run, maybe do some stretches or lift.” He walks past Zayn to dry his own hands and face. “You?”

“Back home I went and boxed, since it builds stamina and reflexes as well as upper body strength.  As you can see, I’m skinny so I’ve gotta work harder in case I need to lift someone, y’know?” Zayn makes a show of flourishing his gangly arms about and Liam laughs at that.

“So is it okay if I just do whatever you do? I don’t run much, unfortunately, but I could keep up, I won’t even, like, complain until after,” Zayn says, almost tentatively, like he’s unsure if Liam will say no.

“Of course,” he splutters out indignantly. The idea of having a companion while doing some exercise was actually perfect. “Honestly, running by myself is a bit boring, especially on a nice day out.”

Zayn grins at him and starts walking out. “Great, I’ll get changed and, I guess, I’ll just wait outside.”

“Yeah, I sort of really need to pee,” Liam laughs, and Zayn gives him a pair of finger guns before leaving with a “Good luck with that!” and a perplexed Liam to close the door behind him.

Honestly, he didn’t know how he got along so well with someone who’s practically a stranger.  But it feels right, this friendship that’s starting to form between them.  It feels as right as his friendship with Louis, yet feels different.  He can’t seem to put a finger on it, but one thing’s for sure, he can’t keep ignoring Zayn in rehearsals or in the studio.  

When he’s fully dressed and ready, he steps out of his room to find a bent over Zayn grabbing his ankles and humming a tune that he can’t really place.

Liam clears his throat because he doesn’t really know what to do with himself, and Zayn grins at him from behind his legs and rights himself with the smallest of grunts. He cocks one of his dark eyebrows at Liam. “I’m warmed up, y’ready?”

Liam manages to choke out a ‘yeah’ and plugs in his earphones before leaving the flat with Zayn closing the door behind him.

They step out of their building and out to a day full of promising sunlight, instead of the usual gloomy London rain. Liam starts trotting out at a comfortable pace after Zayn says he used to smoke so Liam shouldn’t be afraid to run his usual speed and leave him behind.  He feels bad for the boy.

During the run, Zayn does his best to keep up, honestly.  But when even Liam’s blaring DJ Khaled does nothing to hide Zayn’s heaving, he has to force Zayn to slow down or stop.  

He looks a bit affronted for a second until Liam pins him with a look and he’s forced to halt with his complaints.  They lean back against a building, Zayn looking like his lungs were about to explode and come out from his thin lips, sweat permeating his skin-tight long-sleeved running shirt.

“We’re going to the park that’s a few streets down, but you’re gonna sit and wait until I finish. You’re not used to running as much as I have,” Liam commands.

Zayn coughs and nods. “I can still make it to the park, I swear. I’ll stop there.”

Liam studies Zayn’s hunched figure breathing in harshly. His blood is still pumping and he wants to suggest to run ahead but he’s afraid that Zayn will just collapse. Fortunately, Zayn recovers and nods again. “Alright, let’s go.”

As soon as they reach the park, Zayn collapses on a bench and gives Liam a thumbs up as he continues on, a Kanye West track blaring through his earphones.

He doesn’t stop until he feels like his lungs are about to burst from exertion. He feels lighter, though not as light as he does when gliding on a wooden floor while Tchaikovsky plays in the background.

Liam reaches the bench where Zayn is nodding off sleepily. He nudges him and Zayn flinches in alert.

“You hungry?” Liam pants.

Zayn blinks blearily at him before taking in Liam’s sweaty form.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Brilliant!”  He offers Zayn his hand for him to get up. “There’s a place across the road where they make the best full english breakfast.”

“I doubt it’s the best, but lead the way.”

Liam’s determined to not stop moving until the day was over, otherwise he would feel useless.

But he has time for breakfast.  There’s always time for breakfast.

“Do you listen to classical music outside of class?” Zayn says around a mouthful of scrambled eggs and toast.

Liam had pretended to be insulted when Zayn declined a full english and instead chose to eat scrambled eggs and toast.  Of course, he felt bad later when Zayn explained he couldn’t eat bacon and that, quite frankly, the egg yolk intimidated him.

“No, why would I? Got enough of it in my life,” Liam replies while dabbing more butter onto his toast. “I like to kick back and just relax, y’know? Listen to some classic rock maybe, or Drake if I’m in the mood.”

Zayn nods in agreement, a small smile playing on his face.  “I never understood the stereotype, that like, because you do ballet, all you do is ballet, live and breathe ballet.”

There's some Carly Rae Jepsen tune playing inside the restaurant and Liam taps his foot in time with the beat under the table. The smell of breakfast swirls around them as people around them chatter mindlessly.

“What do you do outside ballet then, to unwind?” Liam asks, genuinely curious because Zayn seems to have an air of mystery about him. But instead of answering, Zayn is trying not to choke on really hot tea and cursing when it scorches his tongue and spills it over himself.

He cleans up his mouth and his pants from where the tea spilt on his lap, cursing over his stained trackies. Sighing when he sees it’s pointless, he finally replies. “Dunno, I try to do a bit of everything really. I paint a little, but I prefer like, graffiti, yeah? I like comic books from time to time, but I don’t have much patience for newer TV shows.  Recently I got stuck with the flu, and spent the entire day watching this marathon of like, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air,” Zayn laughs at that and Liam finds himself laughing along with him, finding the fold at the corners of his eyes infectious.

“Did you get the song stuck for the rest of the week?”

Zayn seems to be shaking with his entire body with laughter as he retells how his sisters got so annoyed with his singing the song that they banished him from the living room for the entire week.

“Well, Will Smith is a proper ledge, man,” Liam points out, stabbing a piece of egg with his fork.

Zayn scoffs like Liam just said the most obvious thing in the world.  “Of course, Liam.”

“What would you be doing then, if you weren't doing ballet?”

Zayn seems to want to laugh at his question but then prefers to actually consider it. “Seems pretty unnecessary to think about what could've been, right? Like, I could say that when I was little I dreamt about being, like, a famous singer or something. It wouldn't change the fact that I still ended up here, drinking tea that's too hot to actually be consumed.” He finishes with a playful smile, and Liam does have to give him that.

“Does that answer satisfy your question?”

“Yeah but it seems a bit like you’ve had like some media training,” Liam says, shoving his foot in under the table in a way that from an outsider’s perspective it might seem flirty.

Zayn shakes his head, smile still in place. “No media training, I guess I’m just that good.”

“You're brilliant.”

Liam doesn't notice the slip up until he sees Zayn looking unequivocally smug from behind his cup of tea.

“Oh, shove it,” Liam says, starting to feel the burn of his blush even as Zayn’s eyes seem to dance in joy. “You're worse than Louis, I swear.”

“I’m new, so I’m not sure if it's an insult.”

Liam laughs again. “Take it however you want, Zed.”  

At that moment his phone starts buzzing with the notification of an incoming message.

_Payno! they want us in early ! get in!_

“Well that lasted for a good five seconds,” Liam says under his breath, but Zayn notices.

“What did?”

“They want us in early for rehearsal.”

Zayn starts groaning, his blasé image cracking over the thought of ballet at 8 in the morning. “Why? Isn’t it enough we have to be there everyday basically all day?”

Liam starts looking for their waitress in order to pay. “At least we get paid to do this, so come on, up and at ‘em.”

“Fine, but I will complain about this the entire time and talk about how my worth should not be tied to my level of productivity.”

The waitress walks over and brings the check to Liam, batting her eyelashes but Liam brushes it off.  They have things to do, places to be, he thinks as he takes out the necessary amount to pay off the food and tip the waitress with the change.  He notices Zayn reaching for his pockets to pay too but Liam glares at him until Zayn stops, shrugging.

“As long as you complain while walking.”

They gather their things and step out to the still sunny day, feeling completely ready for the day.  

Except Zayn did complain the entire walk back to the flat.  Liam noticed that at least he did so with a grin on his face.

* * *

 

“Malik, you’re supposed to be a professional, why are you marking, this isn’t an amateur recital, this is the real deal.”

Liam groans and thumps his head against the barre he’s been hanging off of.  The choreographer isn’t known for his patience, but today’s been a real treat. He was being brutal on Zayn, picking at any single thing he’d do wrong.  And though he saw Zayn was pretty thick-skinned, he could start to see the words were wearing him down.

“You know whose face is gonna be on posters and programs? Yours. So act like you’re the lead of this recital, understood?” the choreographer barks at Zayn, and he just nods, his eyes hard as he took in a calming breath.

He meets Liam’s eyes and Liam sends Zayn a questioning look, but Zayn just shakes his head, placating him.  Liam somehow knows that Zayn wouldn’t do anything that might affect his career in the Royal, but also he seems like the kind of person who would snap back if it got too personal.

Louis also looks like he’s been sucking on a sour lemon rind every single time the choreographer stops the music to berate Zayn.  Mostly because it means that they have to basically start from the top every single time, and Louis doesn’t like to be stuck doing the same thing repeatedly.  Also because he’s not the lead, but that’s an entirely different issue.

“Tomlinson and Malik! Do they not teach you how to make proper fouettés up North?” the choreographer bellows above the music as they keep spinning in sync without breaking their spots.  Liam groans this time when the choreographer stops the music again.  

“I am about to lose it.  You two are wearing my patience.  We’re gonna take a 15 minute break and you should sort out whatever is sticking up your arse.”  The man storms away, leaving all the dancers bristled and, frankly, very annoyed.

Zayn and Louis share a frustrated look. Zayn breaks it in order to stomp out of the rehearsal hall without bothering to take off his slippers.

Liam follows him out without caring who saw his hurried escape. His footsteps sounded heavy in the hallway compared to Zayn’s light angry step. He seems to travel in grace even when angry.

“Why are you following me, Liam?” Zayn says without looking back to see if it was actually him.

They stop in front of a vending machine full of nutritional bars and Zayn rummages about until he has the change he needs.

Liam stammers, “I-I just-”, but he doesn’t actually know why he did.

He can’t just outright say he was worried about him, right? That would be weird.

“I wanted to know if you brought lunch or were just planning on buying something.”

Zayn punches out a number for a granola bar and turns, regarding him carefully. It’s clear that he doesn’t buy what Liam is saying but will play along for Liam’s sake.

“No, I didn’t. I was going to ask you, actually, about what you usually do.  Back at the Northern, I would hang around the cafeteria by myself, eating a sandwich or summat.”

Liam pouts at this. Somehow the image of Zayn sitting by himself while everybody else milled around him talking animatedly burst a light bulb in his head. Zayn slaps Liam’s hand as if that would stop him taking pity on Zayn.

“I know what we’re doing today for lunch,” he grins at a bemused Zayn. “Meet me here, when we’re called off for lunch?”

Zayn shrugs and Liam smiles, reaching over to pinch his stubbly chin. Zayn swats him away with one hand, the other busy taking out his snack from the machine. Liam walks back into the studio, willing to go through the verbal abuse from the instructor for another hour.

* * *

 

The costume department is a world of its own. Tulle and sequins line up the walls, every inch of where there used to be some boring cream colored wallpaper hidden behind multiple mannequins with soldier outfits, wings from several productions of Black Swan, and glitter and more sequins. Fabrics hung around the ceiling, red sashes draped over tables full of tape measures and pins.

There was a sense of homeliness to it due to the warm natural light that came in through the crystal ceiling. If it weren’t for the slight smell of stored clothes mixed in with hints of cinnamon, Liam wouldn’t stay here. Sometimes the stench of the clothes was overbearing. Alas, here he was, with Zayn right behind him, absorbing every inch of the red-tinged space.

“Is it me or is this place creepy?” Zayn whispers behind him and Liam nudges him with his elbow, giving him a hard look that barely does anything to Zayn’s growing smile.

Liam turned around and called out, “Harry?”

A flurry of blue fabrics jumped from one of the tables, shoulder-length brown hair framing the face of a young man with alarm painted on his face until catching sight of the two of them standing near. “Liam!” the boy yelps as he flails around until managing to throw the menacing things off of him.

Harry gets up and saunters over to Liam with a huge grin in place even though there are bags under his eyes. He wraps his arms around Liam, almost towering over him with his brown boots.

Liam absorbs Harry’s giddiness through the hug, the taller boy’s hair tickling his face and making him giggle. “It’s so good to see you,” Harry says lowly, but Liam feels more than hear the boy’s words against his neck.

Liam separates himself from Harry, grinning and petting his hair. “It’s gotten longer,” Liam comments while letting one of Harry’s curls spring away from his fingers.

Harry scoffs while combing his hair with his deft, slender fingers. “It’s hair, it does that, Liam.” Harry then leans to look over his shoulder, curious green eyes centering on Liam’s companion. “Who’s this, then? Don’t be rude, Liam, introduce us!”

“Yeah, Liam, don’t be rude!” Zayn echoes. When Liam turns his head towards him, Zayn has a small smile playing on his face, almost as if he looked fond at the exchange he’d had with Harry.

“Harry, this is Zayn Malik, the marvelous new dancer and my temporary roommate while Niall is away,” Liam says, clapping his hand on Zayn’s shoulder.

Zayn brings his hand forward and Harry shakes it vigorously. “ _Very_ pleased to meet you!”

“Zayn, this is Harry Styles, best member of the Greatest Costume Department in all of Great Britain’s Ballet Theatres.”

“The one and only!” Harry opens his arms and gives him a dazzling grin as he bows a bit, his hair flipping when he straightens up.

“And, he’s also going to invite us to lunch because he’s very generous and likes us very, very much,” Liam adds with a slight grimace, the sentence more of a question than a statement.

Harry glares at him and wags his finger at him. “I knew there was an ulterior motive to your pleasing visit here!”

“C’mon, Harry! We’ll go visit Niall after practice tonight, if you want, lad,” Liam concedes and he knows that he’s won just by mentioning the blonde haired boy.

“Fine! But if Louis is going, I’m driving my own car,” Harry says, turning around to look for a jacket while muttering about ‘bloody seat warmers’.

Zayn grabs Liam’s arm and whispers, “M’not sure if I like him because he’s surprisingly nice or if he’s just mad.”

Yet, as Harry grabs Zayn’s wrist and starts walking out of the bright place, Liam starts thinking maybe he’s a bit of both.

* * *

 

Okay, so maybe Harry can also be a bit of an asshole.

Somewhere between the fluctuating states of affronted and flirty he seems to be in around Liam, he’d forgotten that he can be an outright cocky shit.

As they entered the restaurant, Harry’s heels clacking and his mouth formed into a self-righteous smirk while chewing gum, the greeter fussed about while finding them a spot. With a wink from Harry and a short compliment to the waitress, they were sitting in a secluded corner where Zayn could smoke and Harry shrugs when asked how he always manages to get good seating at these places.

They place their orders, and Liam’d thought on the walk over that maybe Zayn and Harry wouldn’t mesh well together, but Zayn’s somehow very invested in learning about Harry’s role in the costume department. Harry in turn seems to want to know about Zayn’s roles at the Northern.

Zayn talks about a couple of modern dances he’d managed to snag the main role in, and a few he’d helped choreograph but never actually made to the stage because it wasn't what the director had in mind.

“That's a load of crap,” Harry says, a bit of lettuce peeking through his open mouth.

Zayn shrugs. “I guess that's what I get for being brown in a career that's been aggressively white for so long.” He takes a bite of his chicken parmigiana. “This is really good,” he expresses with eyes full of amazement.

Liam laughs as Harry offers him to try some of his kale.

"Shouldn't you be eating more than that salad?" Liam comments, frowning at his own plate of pasta then looking at Harry's.

Harry looks confused at his question. "It's kale," he merely replies, as if that contains the right answer. Liam looks over at Zayn and he's trying not to laugh, his eyes shining under the dim lighting overhead.

Zayn kicks him under the table and gives him a look to stop antagonizing his mate. Liam scratches his own beard.

"So, Harry, how're things in the mighty costume department?" Zayn asks after taking another bite.

Harry lights up. "Brilliant! We got these new fabrics for the Swan Lake, but I think I'm going to steal some of it for Liam's piece."

At this, Liam's paying attention. "Really?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Harry frowns, seemingly confused at the fact that he'd forgotten to tell Liam. "After Sophia left, they gave me her assignments."

Liam grimaces at Harry's words before he's realized what he's said. "Oh, sorry, forgot the wound is still a bit fresh," Harry comments with his slow apologetic drawl while snaking his arm around Liam's shoulder to comfort him. Liam wanted to say it was quite unnecessarily, it was just a knee-jerk reaction. Zayn frowns down at his food.

The waiter then passes by and asks Zayn if there's anything wrong with the food and he’s startled and starts stammering and declining anything they offered.

When at last the waiter leaves, Zayn seems ultra focused on his food and refuses to look at anything or anyone else for the rest of the meal.

Harry keeps blabbering about getting Niall his guitar so he can do something in his hospital room. Liam tells him they're probably not allowed in hospitals, but Harry then goes off on Liam’s lack of sense of adventure until he agrees to sneak in the guitar.

Liam nudges Zayn’s foot and smiles at him as he asks whether or not he wanted to go with them to the hospital.

Zayn sort of screws up his face, obviously uncomfortable with the thought of going to see someone he doesn't actually know and is replacing at the moment at their place of work.

Liam hadn’t thought about it that way, and he says as much to Zayn, which garners a slim smile from the boy.

That small gesture falls a bit heavy in his chest, starting to nag him as Zayn starts to sort of fold into himself while Harry keeps talking about the best ways to eat spinach.

It’s not until they’re back at the company and Harry leaves them alone again that Liam pulls Zayn aside with a frown on his face and a flutter in his stomach. They duck into a side-staircase and Liam waits for it to clear out of conversing dancers before observing Zayn. He leans against the wall, a picture of patience, and yet the tapping of his foot and the dip of his brows says otherwise. Liam mirrors his stance against the chilling surface.

“What’s wrong?” Liam says softly. At the quirk of Zayn’s questioning eyebrow he elaborates. “You were quiet the entire car ride back.”

Zayn diverts his look to the side and sighs. “It was nothing. Ridiculous, really,” he brushes aside with a pained expression he looks eager to also brush away. “Can we go back inside? We have rehearsal.”

Zayn separates himself from the wall and waits expectantly for Liam to follow suit.

Liam walks towards him, his hands itching to push down on the tension on Zayn’s shoulders and ease his problems away. “Just know that,” Liam sighs. “You don’t have to keep things to yourself. If something I did or said made you feel uncomfortable, or something Harry said made you feel strange, you can tell me. Honestly, it would be better if you did.”

He waits for his response, merely getting the same slim smile he’d gotten earlier and a nod. “Got it,” Zayn simply says and opens the door behind for both of them.

Liam starts walking ahead, his mind going through their entire day as he tries to pinpoint what exactly went wrong.

They start putting on their slippers next to each other onstage as Louis looked on from the other side of the stage with an amused look on his face.

Liam frowns at him but he just shrugs and smirks at Liam. Zayn notices, bringing a huff that seems to escape unwillingly.

This time Liam pointedly stares at Zayn.

“Okay, what now?”

“Nothing,” Zayn says, the situation clearly funny in his mind because the ends of his smile begin to twist up. He starts pointing and flexing his feet instead of answering.

“Zayn,” Liam glowers this time to see if it would take.

This only makes Zayn actually laugh, his trilling giggles filling up their space. “You’re shit at expressing your anger on your face, like an annoyed  puppy. But I commend you for the effort.”

Liam wants to wring his skinny neck or make him do fouettés until he’d collapse.

He wouldn’t do either though, because the choreographer was back with a cup of coffee in his hands this time around and looking slightly less irritated.

“If you must know what’s bothering me,” Zayn says while getting up and stretching his own back. “I was only a tad jealous, which I have no right to be and that made me uncomfortable,” he says, a smile building in his face at the same rate that Liam’s confusion settled into his bones as Zayn walks away.

Liam can’t say anything else as the choreographer calls for places and he can’t focus on Zayn’s smug look but on the footwork and the impending lifts he’s going to have to do. Developpés and pas de bourrées in his mind in first position, Zayn’s indecision towards their friendship in second position and the rest of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you think! comments are appreciated! there is more to come if there is a demand for it! follow me on tumblr @thearcherballet and pester me over there if you'd like!


	3. Three's A Company (Of Dancers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u to ana and sasha, and to everyone that's still reading! Y'all are the real mvp's of my heart!

“Zayn, you’re coming with me.”

Zayn looks confusedly at Harry’s retreating back, slightly offended over the fact that Harry hadn’t even looked his way to proclaim this.

They’d finished their practice a little worse for wear after the choreographer had them working like an overused pencil eraser. They’d come out fresh out the showers and Harry had been gleefully waiting for Liam, Zayn, and Louis right outside with an expectant glow upon his tall and slender figure.

Harry had apparently texted Louis beforehand, because Louis led the way out of the building with a mild huff. Harry’d also gone home to pick up one of Niall’s guitars, he said, while cryptically avoiding the question as to why he’d had it at his flat in the first place.

They headed for the car park and immediately Harry had sauntered towards his own car and claimed Zayn as his co-pilot, completely ignoring the ample space Louis’ car provided for the four of them.

Louis of course has to proceed to protest over Harry’s current annoyance.

“Harry, c’mon, let’s all go in my car. We’re killing the planet and all that,” Louis exclaims while fiddling with his keys.

“No. You’re aggravating with the seat heaters and brake too sudden,” Harry says to Louis with a glare. . His gaze turns towards Zayn. “Zayn, please hop in.” He then steps behind the wheel and starts the small light blue car.

As he waits for Zayn, he moodily puts on a dark blue beanie over his head.

Zayn turns towards Liam and shrugs before following Harry wordlessly. Liam watches him throw his duffel bag in the cramped back seat along with Niall’s guitar and some giant rolls of fabric. Zayn folds his skinny legs into the car, closes the door and starts searching for the handle to push the seat back.

Harry appears to tell Zayn something and instead Zayn’s seat just violently folds forward, making Zayn hit his head against the dashboard.

Louis starts laughing uproariously as Zayn rights his seat with an irritated look on his face. Liam can only grimace and attempt to hit Louis in the crotch as Harry’s backing out of the parking space. Liam fails, merely hitting his thigh, which only makes the smaller lad laugh even more and defeats the purpose of Liam’s violence because Zayn notices. Zayn’s sneering, totally not amused by the way he flips Louis the bird.

Of course, that’s when Harry decides to peel away, slamming on the accelerator and making Zayn’s body slam back against his own seat.

As the two disappear out of sight, Liam and Louis are barely able to maintain their composure long enough to get in Louis’ black monstrosity of a car and follow behind.

“What a fucking character you’ve managed to catch there, Liam,” Liam practically wheezes out inside the car as he turns the engine on.

Liam smiles to himself despite his instinct to do otherwise. He softly agrees with Louis, which garners a slap on his bicep from Liam’s side.

“You’re falling for Malik already?” Louis cries out in indignation. “I thought it would be just you and me forever!”

Liam blankly stares at Louis’ face. “You have a son. Your sad excuse for jealousy is pathetic, Tommo,” Liam dryly says.

His friend slits his icy blue eyes, spitting out a “So?”

Liam knows it’s fruitless to argue with Louis, and yet-

“So, it’s never been _just_ you and me,” Liam replies.

“Harold and Neil don’t count,” Louis scoffs while swerving to avoid a cab and honking. “Don’t deny it, they’ve always been in their own weird little world.”

Liam can’t deny that. While the four of them work well together, it’s always as if there’s something missing in the group. Harry and Niall somehow are always sharing their own little secrets, even though it was Louis who ultimately brought the two together. And though Liam and Louis get along well enough in this work environment that ends up taking most of their time, outside of it they’re always kind of tired. The tiredness makes for annoying pissing contests where they often catch themselves taking the piss out of each other just so they could do something together. 

And Liam gets along with Niall because his energy is extremely infectious. He’s like a magnet that, instead of attracting people, emits positive vibes that people just want to be around and stoke that light. It’s near impossible to deny Niall anything, which is why Liam thinks Harry loves being with him.

Harry loves spoiling people, but especially his friends. He knows that some people like taking advantage of his good-nature, and he’s quick to eliminate anyone that does so in the nicest way possible. It’s quite possible that Liam at first liked Harry because of his tallness and sort of self-assured composure. Yet, that transformed into a sort of fondness that Liam’s sure he’s only felt for his pets. Watching how Niall and Harry interact, like they like bringing the best out of each other, it’s always made Liam ache for that sort of thing.

He wants to be able to bring his person up, even when they’re not down. That even when they’re both tired they won’t aim hurtful jibes at each other, like Liam and Louis so often end up doing. Liam wants to have someone that can not only respect his limits and broaden his horizons, but someone that can fit into their strange little group yet be his own person too.

“Niall and Harry are weird because they’re in love,” Liam finally reasons with a smile. 

Louis, completely unaware of Liam’s analysis, groans at his response. “I doubt it. I think Harry just currently has a thing for bleached blondes.”

Liam thinks that’s simplifying the lingering looks, the easy smiles between them, and the fact that Niall left his guitar at Harry’s house when he’s very jealous over his own musical instruments. 

“Niall’s been blonde forever, though,” Liam points out in a sing-song voice.

At this, Louis lets out a frustrated sound as he comes to a stop at a traffic light. “That’s not the point, Liam, and you know it.”

Liam sighs. “Your point is that I shouldn’t have a crush on my flatmate slash coworker.”

“Don’t have a crush on your flatmate slash coworker,” Louis reiterates cheekily.

The light changes to green and Louis’ car continues forward.

“Is that what you learned from Grimmy?” 

Louis slams the brake then so hard that Liam has to brace himself with the handle by the door before he could be slammed against the dashboard the same way that Zayn was a few minutes before.

“Tommo!” Liam shouts as the cars behind Louis start honking furiously. They seemed to be reflecting the anger radiating off of Louis.

“We said we wouldn’t mention anyone involved with the context of whatever it is you’re implying at the moment,” Louis hisses. He presses the accelerating pedal, the death grip on the steering wheel a sure sign of Liam perhaps toeing a line that wasn’t unspoken. 

When Louis said a few weeks back that Liam wasn’t allowed to ask or talk to him about anything Nick, Eleanor, or Briana-related, Liam just put it in his back pocket in case something like this came up.

“I’m not implying anything,” Liam says, praying that no one rear-ends them anytime soon. “I’m just pointing out the hypocrisy of the situation. Y’know, pot calling the kettle black?”

Louis keeps quiet for a few seconds, the only sounds filling out their tense silence a faint hum from a Justin Bieber tune playing on the radio and the turn signal. “I hold your life in my hands,” Louis eventually managed. Though his voice was mostly calm, the threat was still present.

Liam merely mumbled a “Whatever”, hoping Louis lets this go so the trip to the hospital doesn’t end up with both of them locked up in rooms of their own. 

Liam inhales and lets out a lengthy exhale before restarting the conversation. “Besides, I think Zayn knows I like him. He keeps teasing me about it.” Louis side-eyes him and he tack in another, “I think,” for good measure. 

“You think,” Louis shakes his head but Liam can’t see if it’s in amusement or resignation.

“Yeah, he got a bit huffy earlier because you were staring at us. Obviously taking the piss out of my lack of game,” Liam says.

“Huffy as in jealous?”

“It was pure show. I think he and Harry should have a cockiness showdown someday,” he jokes while staring out the window. The sky was already dark. They wouldn’t have a lot of time to see Niall.

“I don’t think so,” Louis says, retaking Liam’s attention. Liam gazes at Louis curiously until Louis elaborates. “I mean, I don’t think it’s a show.”

Liam breathes deeply again, hoping it would clear his mind a bit and get his thoughts in order, but he was so tired… 

“I don’t think so either,” Liam sighs, turning into a yawn. “But I also don’t know what to do with that at the moment.”

Liam leans his head against the window, letting the passing cars’ light flood his vision instead. 

“Maybe it’s a phase too?” Louis attempts, clearly trying at an understanding tone.

“I don’t know.” A silver car with purple lights at the bottom passes by and he wonders for a moment how Zayn would look under a purple floodlight. 

This is one choreography Liam just can’t decipher, and his scattered thoughts weren’t helping him pick up the pace of it.

He sees Louis’ reflection against the window nod. “I get it. Just,” Louis says, pausing to sigh this time, “don’t do anything unless you’re sure. Both of you. Be his friend for now. Worry about the other feelings later. He has to nail down this bloody chorey first.”

Liam chuckles at Louis’ single-mindedness. “I thought you wanted him to fail.”

“What? No,” Louis exclaims, his voice tinged with a slightly betrayed tone. “Otherwise I’ll have to sub for him, and Grimshaw would sub for _me,_ and that’s a real recipe for disaster.”

Liam laughs lightly. Louis turns the wheel and watches the traffic in order to cross an intersection. 

“You’re exaggerating.”

Louis is the one who laughs then, though this time it’s sarcastic. “Remember the bad condition his extensions were during practice? Don’t pretend you’ve turned a blind eye to it. Even the dance master was fuming, it’s why he had to sit out today and do barre all day.”

“Yeah, but they’ve always been bad. Think that’s why Niall’s gave out,” Liam smiles.

“Poor lad’s leg was probably done for in sympathy,” Louis says and Liam notices the glint of mirth in his friend’s eyes caught from the dash window as they pull up to the hospital’s car park.

They leave the conversation at that, not wanting to add insult to the injury when visiting said friend recovering from a lengthy operation on his knee.

As they’re walking into the pristine building, Liam can’t help but think about a separate universe in which Louis and he could get along in a way that doesn’t necessarily have to be almost threatening outside of their work. A separate world in which they could be best friends, like they are in the studio, but for it to be similar as to what he saw in the car park, both of them laughing and having a feeling of camaraderie that could extend beyond friendship. He wants that kind of friendship too. One that marches to its own rhythm.

They get their passes and are warned that they have about a half hour left to visit and continue to hustle towards Niall’s room in the 4th Floor.

As they enter the hallway he’s in, the sounds of a guitar being softly strummed reached their ears. Louis hits Liam and they race towards the door marked 420.

Liam pushes open the door, allowing Louis to press forward from behind as they bypass Niall’s current roommate who’s snoozing away with noise-cancelling headphones.

And then, “Payno!”

Niall’s face becomes brighter at the sight of them and Liam grins. It had been a few days since Niall’s surgery and the last time Liam had seen his blonde ex-flatmate. He ruffles his fluffy hair, which usually is spiked up with hairspray and other shit that Liam steers clear from for the most part. As Louis shoves Liam aside in order to lay down next to Niall, Liam takes a moment to take in the suddenly crowded sterilized room. 

By the window there were a couple of bags with helium-filled balloons swaying on top of them. Next to Niall’s bed, a used food tray lay discarded, but what really overwhelmed his bedside were the two colorful flower arrangements, one of sunflowers and daisies dwarfing another more generic one. 

Harry looks overly smug reading the cards accompanying the smaller flower arrangement. From Liam’s spot, he can recognize the scribble of Cowell’s signature at the bottom of the card.

Liam hadn't even noticed he’d shuffled closer to Zayn until he was by his side. He made a mental excuse that it was to examine the globes near the window.

Zayn, who though visibly seemed as relaxed as he normally did, kept scratching his beard almost imperceptibly until Liam has to tap his hand. It's then that Zayn notices his tic with a mild smirk on his face. He then proceeds to drop his hand to his lap in order to play with his own inked knuckles. 

Liam’s been careful as to the placement of his own tats, keeping them away from his hands so they wouldn’t show even with the gaudy costumes on. He briefly wonders what Zayn did with the tats when he danced, if he applied a ton of makeup to hide them, or resorted to rebelliousness and showed them off. He almost has to sit down at the thought of Zayn doing the latter while on stage, the ink floating along with him in its own rhythm and pace.

He breaks from his Zayn trance in order to actually look at the globes littering the room. There were a couple with pink ballerinas imprinted on them.

“Those are from Jade and the girls,” Niall notes with a bark of laughter while eyeing Liam’s closeness to them. 

In addition to them, there are some with generic “Get Well Soon!” messages that Liam guesses are from Niall’s other friends, since his family is still in Ireland.

He has a moment of feeling like a shit mate arriving empty handed to visit his convalescent friend and mentions as much to Niall. The paler boy brushes it off with a laugh as Liam being ridiculous. 

“Liam, do you have any gum?” Niall inquires, his smile barely concealed in faux seriousness. 

Liam quirks an eyebrow but rushes to rummage through his own pockets to find the packet of gum he’d remembered to put in before leaving the dance studio.

Finally finding it in the depths of his joggers, he throws it at Niall. It’s intercepted by Louis before the Irish lad could even graze it with his fingertips. 

“It’s rude not to share,” Louis says simply, popping the strip into his mouth. He then gives one to Niall with the same dash of mirth he’d seen earlier lighting up his blue eyes.

“There,” Niall says while chewing a mouthful of gum. “Now you gave me something. You’re my best friend.” 

Harry takes the package from him, returning it to Liam as Zayn shakes his head in amusement. Zayn holds out his hand expectantly to Liam, peering up at him with a teasing smile. He’s obviously enjoying the exchange. It’s then that Liam has to scoff and laugh a bit, because yeah, it was kinda ridiculous of him to think he’d be a lesser friend if he didn’t bring anything for Niall.

“You should be thankful I’m at least here gracing you with my presence,” Liam tells Niall. He gives Zayn a piece of gum and tries to wink at him but fails, bringing the rest of the boys to laugh at his attempted flirtations. 

Niall begins to strum his guitar once more with a giddy little bounce, and starts making up silly songs. Louis tries to improvise dirty lines into the lyrics and Harry glares at Louis to the point where Liam suspects he was trying to land him in the hospital room too. Liam dispels this thought when Niall starts cackling at the dirty, dirty lyrics and sees Harry never taking his eyes off the sight of Niall’s smile. Instead, Liam starts getting paranoid over a nurse coming in and kicking them out. 

A nurse does come in and tells them to keep the noise down, but Niall cheekily compliments “Sonya”--“What? I ask for people’s names and I remember!” he’d later interject--and they keep on making noise until 45 minutes after curfew.

The sight of Zayn happily smiling at the comfortable air between them all is sort of worth it and also helps calm Liam's anxiety.

Later, back at the flat, the hint of the warmth growing in the hospital room seems to have impermeated Liam’s system.

It seems like it had also affected Zayn by the way of the spring in his step as he makes his way into the flat. Liam is surprised again by how well Zayn appears to just belong in this space that used to be Liam and Niall’s. 

Zayn kicks off his shoes by the door, or opens the fridge to nick some chocolate pudding, or lingers around Liam’s doorway to chat, and it doesn’t look or feel like something temporary. Like a replacement while what you’ve known to be permanent is being fixed. He feels right.

Before Liam goes to close the door, Zayn stops by.

“Hey,” Liam says while shrugging off his shirt. Zayn leans back against his doorway, not really trying to avert his gaze. 

“I just wanted to say thanks, for not letting me feel excluded and uncomfortable at the hospital.”

Liam frowns and says, “Sure, but I don't think I did anything, really.”

Zayn nods and continues, “In any case, I actually like the lads. They were pretty cool. Tell them that.” With a small shrug he opens his mouth as if to say something but then appears to think better and says: “I’m glad to have been brought in to the Royal at the last minute. Thank you.” 

Before Liam has his wits about to reply, Zayn knock once on the doorframe and waves Liam off, going to his own room. 

Liam feels like he’s buzzing, his heart beating to the sound of Niall’s guitar thrumming, Louis’ hysterical laughter, Harry’s voice full of melted sweetness, and the tapping of Zayn’s hand against his own thigh.

It seems possible, Liam thinks as he lays down in bed with Zayn’s smile cruising through his mind, that that may be the rhythm he’d been looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI DID U LIKE THIS! I promise more dancing in the next chapter! Don't know if less talking, seeing as I'm me. But let me know your thoughts in the comments or write to me on tumblr or twitter @thearcherballet! (No guarantees that I might answer fic related things on twitter tho!) leave kudos if u want and maybe bookmark or subscribe if you want to be told when i update? Thank you! ❤️ -Adriana


	4. quatre goals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! sorry for the lateness (not really, i'm just a really slow writer). good news: i have a solid plan for the fic and it will be a total of 7 chapters, which makes this chapter the midpoint! what!?  
> thanks to my personal hype-woman Sasha @darlingjustdont/bigbrotherlouis and ana for just saying my title for the chapter was nerdy (bc squad goals? she wanted it to be cinq goals bc "ot5 is forever")  
> hope you enjoy it! :))))

The heat of the studio is even more sweltering than ever before. 

The lights from the city filters in through the windows, playing with his vision.

One minute he’s doing grand jetés, his legs flying simultaneously across the wooden floor. The next, he has hands wrapped around his shoulders, his heaving chest.

The mirror only teases a pair of inked hands and Liam, with lidded eyes, traces their path. 

Lips hover over Liam’s shoulders and the traveling hands pull him closer to a body that elevates the temperature of the room. 

The warm mouth kisses up Liam’s neck, up his jaw, and Liam tilts his head just so and manages to catch the lips for a millisecond. 

There’s a space between them and Liam this time tries to grasp the hands, only for them to slip away. 

The edges of the mirror blur and Liam doesn’t know what to do with that.

He turns to face the teasing man only to find more mirrors. The walls are mirrors and the image of him are repeating, blurry and confused, over and over again. 

He’s eternally turning, pirouettes be damned as he burns a hole through the ground and everything goes dark as he falls and falls and falls and Zayn’s asking him if he’s going to run this morning.

Liam flinches and he’s home. Zayn’s standing halfway into Liam’s room with worried eyes.

“You okay there, mate?” Zayn says. 

Liam blinks, letting his eyes adjust to the morning light. “Yeah,” he says as he clears his throat.

He isn’t quite certain as to why Zayn’s in the room. “Whassup?” Liam grumbles groggily.

Zayn’s alert gaze skates over Liam’s features. “You slept through your alarms and I wanted to see if you still wanted to run,” he explains haltingly, shifting his weight on his feet.

That’s when Liam’s brain catches up with the sight of Zayn’s red running trainers and groans. “‘M sorry, man.”

“It’s okay,” Zayn says with a short laugh. “I can run on my own. You can go back to sleep,” he finishes calmly and starts slinking back out of Liam’s room.

Liam mumbles his thanks as Zayn closes the door behind him. He groans while setting his alarm again,  raises the volume so he’ll actually hear it the next time, closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep.

When Liam wakes up an hour later from a dark and fitful sleep, it’s to the sound of B.o.B, as usual. He goes through his morning routine, noticing Zayn’s absence, and opts to make waffles.

He’s dressing up his breakfast and talking on the phone with his mum when Zayn bursts into the flat.

A chilly blast sneaks in and Zayn immediately shuts the door. 

“It’s snowing,” Zayn grumbles without a greeting and walks past Liam. 

“Mum, I’ll call you later when I get home, all right?” Liam almost implores.

“Fine, honey,” Karen sighs. “But you gotta remember to do it, and not because Nicola tells you to.” 

Liam hits his head with the can of whipped cream. “Sure, I will.”

He hangs up and Zayn’s still grumbling from his room.

“You good there, mate?” Liam calls behind him as he decorates his plate with strawberries.

“We're gonna have to take the train,” Zayn declares with a huff. Liam turns around and Zayn's opening the fridge to look for a packet of applesauce on his tippy toes. 

“Are you serious?” 

Zayn takes a spoon and starts shoving applesauce into his mouth. He sits on the counter’s bar stool, a sort of defeated hunch on his shoulders. “‘M ‘fraid so, unless you don't want to feel your face the entire day,” Zayn says and sighs. “I see you woke up with purpose then,” he nods at Liam’s plate. 

“Really had a hankering for them,” Liam says as he bites his lips and finds a fork.

“Thought you told Styles that you got rid of all your inorganic shit.” 

Zayn's looking at Liam with accusing eyes and Liam swallows down the guilt with a challenging mouthful of waffles and whipped cream and strawberries. “I won't tell ‘im that you told me his chest looked ridiculous all exposed the other day if you don't.”

“His blouse was barely buttoned!”

Liam glares at Zayn until he ultimately surrenders by throwing his hands in the air. 

“Aren't you going to eat some more?” Liam says to fill the void of conversation once Zayn is done with his cup.

Zayn flicks one of his eyebrows upwards. “I don't have time for that,” he says and gets up, but not before he dips a finger in the whipped cream Liam had plated so beautifully. “I’ll eat out somewhere else.”

With that Zayn's walking back to his room and Liam's left with a gaping hole in his waffles.

* * *

 

Taking the tube when it's snowing means having to ride in the cars like sardines in a can. 

Zayn manages to somehow nab a seat but Liam’s still forced to stay standing in front of Zayn, gripping the railing above him.

Liam hikes his bag higher on his shoulder and tries not to hit the person next to him when the train moves forward.

“You never told me what you did for fun,” Zayn says abruptly from his seat, making Liam peer down at him. Liam’s grip on the handlebar above his head is sweaty. Zayn’s leaning back on his seat. “The other day when we were eating breakfast after running. You asked me what I did when I’m not doing ballet,” he explains. “I already know you like to workout and choreograph, so what do you actually like to do?”

Liam presses his lips into an amused smile. “Guess?”

This time Zayn’s the one observing him, his amber eyes taking in Liam’s shoulders as the train rattled around them. “Fight club?”

Liam laughs, throwing back his head and headbutting an old man on the shoulder as the train stops abruptly. Liam apologizes and turns back to Zayn, his expression about to burst laughing as his eyes shine impossibly. Liam settles his feet to a better position to give the old man a wider berth, bringing him closer to Zayn, their knees skimming against the other’s.

“Close,” Liam says with a roll of his eyes. “I really enjoy hip hop.”

Zayn tilts his head. “Huh,” he says as he nods in understanding. “Makes sense.”

“It’s usually at a studio when they bring good choreographers,” Liam shrugs. “It’s good fun, not having to follow really strict steps.” He flourishes his arm in front of Zayn’s face only to pop and lock it, much to Zayn’s enjoyment. 

“Rebellious, I like it,” Zayn again nods. The train stops again and this time the lady in the purple coat stands up to leave and Liam takes her still-warm spot. He places his bag by his feet.

Liam sighs and puts his right arm behind Zayn’s seat, his left on the bar by the exit.

The train cars start moving again, the walls outside blurring once more. “I haven’t done it in a long time, bet I’m rubbish at it.”

Zayn scoffs and taps Liam’s knee in admonishment. “Please.” Zayn places his elbows on his rucksack and puts his chin on his hands and stares at Liam with an endeared look on his face.

“What?” Liam has to ask. The look Zayn’s sending him is making him feel discomfited and he can sense the blush starting to gather in his own cheeks.

“Nothing,” Zayn says with a smile. “I just really doubt there’s anything you’re not good at.”

Liam quirks an eyebrow at him. Zayn keeps smiling. “I can’t do cartwheels.”

“And I can’t do calculus,” Zayn offers while leaning back again, his right knee jumping up and down. “But you don’t see me using it on a daily basis, right, mate?”

Liam laughs at that, conceding him a point. 

“You just gotta let things happen, Liam,” Zayn says easily and leans his head against Liam’s shoulder. Liam stiffens, the feeling of Zayn’s newly dyed pink hair tickling his neck foreign. 

“Let it happen, man,” Zayn whispers, placing his hand against Liam’s knee until Liam takes a deep breath and relaxes against him. 

He doesn't even tease Zayn about the fact that he smelled heavily of sweat and more sweat. He’ll save it for another time.

It’s not until they reach their stop and have to gather their things that Liam realizes that he’d been absentmindedly stroking Zayn’s shoulder the entire time.

* * *

 

“Zayn,” Liam’s whining for the third time. 

“I’m trying, but I just think my grip is too loose,” Zayn complains.

He puts Eleanor back down to the floor. Louis throws himself onto the floor in exasperation.

“It’s pirouette, chassé and then she goes attitude towards you,” Liam groans and walks over to Eleanor. “Use the impulse of the chassé to grab her under her ribs,” he says as he grabs her just so. “You lift on one, she goes to  penché on two-three, and you drop her back en pointe on one.”

Zayn nods and wipes his forehead against his shirt’s sleeve. 

“El,” Liam calls. “Could you do it again? I’ll lift you so I can show Mr. Malik here.”

She laughs lightly and goes to position, Zayn getting out of the way and moving to the front of the studio so he can observe them again.

“And!” Liam shouts and starts counting one-two-three as they start the parallel piqué turns that transform into a pirouette and chass é together. He grabs Eleanor and lifts her effortlessly as her delicate legs extend to  penché and she holds on to his forearm tightly yet still makes it look gentle. He brings her down to her pointe and they both turn towards Zayn.

“Got it now?” Liam says, pretending not to be breaking a sweat over those short movements. 

Zayn rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. “C’mon then,” he mutters, hyping himself up. Liam looks at Eleanor, who just shakes her head. Louis ceases to even try to be Von Rothbart and has become a human starfish.

“Here’s hoping,” she grumbles at Liam before going to her starting point.

“Louis, you can stay down until Zayn can actually do it,” Liam announces and Louis cheers halfheartedly. “All right then, and! One-two-three,” Liam chants, silently crossing his fingers that Zayn actually gets it this time. 

Eleanor turns and Zayn’s too late to grab her.

Louis isn’t even watching the two and he blows a raspberry at Zayn. 

“Is he for real?” Zayn complains and Liam glares back at them.

“Eleanor, take a break,” Liam says and Eleanor looks worried but walks away to drink some water, keeping her eyes on the pair. “Zayn, you’ve been watching El, right?”

He slowly nods in response, a furrow in his eyebrows. 

“Good! Then you’re going to do the Swan part and _ I’m _ gonna lift you, is that clear?”

Zayn’s jaw drops and his eyes look ready to pounce but Liam stops him before he can put up a fight. “I’m tired, we’re all tired, so this is just so you can feel where you’re supposed to grab the Black Swan,” Liam says, his tone growing harder by the second and he stomps away to places. 

Zayn exhales annoyed, and Louis and Eleanor sit up to actually watch them. 

Liam inhales and feels the tension giving up slightly. “And!”  

He barely notices the tight set of Zayn’s shoulders as they drift across the floor together. Their spots are mirrors of each other. When Zayn cha ss é’s, Liam grabs hold of him and easily lifts him. Zayn’s concentration breaks as he starts laughing mid-air and Liam puts him down. 

Zayn’s still gripping Liam’s arm and he leans toward him in his laughter.

“This is so ridiculous,” Zayn exclaims and his eyes are shining and Liam has to grin because it was actually really silly.

He can feel Zayn’s shaking laughter transmitting itself into Liam’s system, blinding him and just running wild with it. He’s overwhelmed and needs to step back because he really wants to trace the smile with his own. 

Swiftly, Liam steps out of the embrace and Louis is already staring at Liam like ‘what are you doing, Liam’.

Liam truly doesn’t know the answer to that.

Zayn’s still smiling like Liam hadn’t slipped away from his touch, like the closeness hadn’t affected him the least. 

Liam clears his throat and commands him to try it one more time so they could move on. 

Zayn lifts Eleanor once, twice, three times, and throws himself on the floor, ecstatic and shining and wonderful and Liam has to look away.

* * *

 

“We should do something tonight.”

Liam’s making a pumpkin soup from a recipe he’d found online in the kitchen and he turns around to look at Zayn.

Zayn’s sitting on the floor of the living room, his legs doing the split as he browses through his laptop. Zayn’s feet are unconsciously pointing and flexing to the beat of Zayn’s punching of the keyboard.

Liam washes his hands and leans against the counter so he can talk to Zayn while keeping an eye on the pot. 

“What do you suggest?”

Zayn leans his chin against his fist as his elbow digs into his thigh. “You said you liked to go dancing?”

Liam clears his throat. “We just danced all day.”

“Yeah, but it’s different when you dance for work and when you dance for play,” Zayn says with an absent-minded smile.

“What do you suggest?” Liam repeats, though this time with actual curiosity. 

“Perrie told me like a week ago that she has a friend that knows the best places where dance crews appear in London. We should check that out.” Zayn’s talking as he picks up his phone to message someone. Almost instantly Liam hears a ping from Zayn’s phone. “Her name’s Jesy, and she’s gonna be someplace called The Underground tonight.”

Zayn looks up at Liam, his eyes shining with a plan. Liam goes to stir the soup. Tendrils of nutmeg drift up from the pot, the aroma instantly making him feel light and pleasant. He pours some more heavy milk into it and stirs it one more time before putting the lid back on. 

“Where is it?” Liam finally says. 

When he turns around once again, Zayn’s grinning triumphantly at him. “We have to take the Tube, again.”

* * *

 

Their walk from the Tube station to The Underground is brisk but they keep close as to keep warm. The wind chills Liam’s nose instantly and he hides his hands in his coat pockets. The cold had picked up in the afternoon and they hadn’t accounted that very well into the trip.

However, Liam’s chest was vibrating with excitement and nervousness. Zayn kept chattering about and directing Liam to the right place, letting him know just how equally nervous and excited he was. He’s usually more reserved, but since he felt familiar with Liam, he kept bumping into him, his eyes crinkling with joy.

Liam wants to hold on to Zayn in fear that he would run all the way to The Underground. 

They reach the entrance to what seems like a warehouse that’s long since been abandoned and Zayn knocks on a giant door. It slides open and a man stares at them at the threshold. “You dancers?”

Liam and Zayn look at each other. “Yeah, man,” Zayn says without missing a beat, giving the man a dazzling grin. 

The man regards them without much interest and shrugs. “Leave your coats with Linda,” he says and waves them in.

Inside, a bored looking black girl with space buns and blue spectacles perused a magazine inside a booth that was only lit with a fluorescent light above her. Liam elbowed Zayn and pointed her out.

“You Linda?” Zayn asks. 

The girl glares up at them and merely extends her hand to take their coats. They shrug out of them, Liam shoving his scarf into a sleeve and his gloves into the pockets of the coat. 

Linda takes out a walkie talkie within the confines of her booth and says “We have two more entering,” without much enthusiasm. 

Liam wants to laugh but instead Zayn leans into his side. “She could at least muster an ounce of happiness,” he mutters into Liam’s ear. Liam snorts and slaps Zayn’s arm. Zayn giggles quietly and another man opens a door next to the booth.

Maybe it had been because they’d been so nervous when they’d arrived but the music that came booming out from the door should’ve been impossible to disguise. 

When Liam and Zayn step the fold, it’s into what for all intents and purposes looks like a club, with a DJ blasting a remix of Kehlani’s ‘Jealous’ and a multitude dancing around as one entity in the middle mostly with drinks in the air. 

Liam nods to the beat and Zayn pulls Liam by the elbow towards a leggy blonde girl with wavy hair to the middle of her back. Zayn taps her shoulder and she turns around and squeals. Liam has to step back as Perrie Edwards launches herself onto Zayn. “You made it!”

“Told ya I would,” Zayn grins. Perrie separates herself from Zayn and does the same with Liam. 

“Been inviting you for years to get out of the studios and that apartment,” Perrie chastises Liam, swatting his chest lightly with a pout. 

“I think he needed a bad influence,” Zayn says beside him and winks at Liam. He could be bad. 

Perrie laughs at them and pulls them nearer to the makeshift bar. “C’mon, let me introduce you to the beauties,” Perrie exclaims.

They navigate through a sea of bodies grinding on each other, moving in sync to the music. Perrie keeps having to yell “Excuse me!” followed by “Sorry!” in order to get to the few meters from where they had been to where three other girls sat in front of the bar with cups full of beer. 

Liam recognizes Jade, having hung out with her and Niall at least once as well as having danced with her several years. He also recognizes Leigh-Anne, Harry’s assistant in the Costume department. He waved at them and they respond enthusiastically, crying out their names. 

“You obviously know Jade and I assume Leigh-Anne too,” Perrie says basically screaming over the music. Zayn nods and Liam grins at the girls attempting a wink which they roll their eyes at. “This is Jesy,” she says with a flourish. Jesy attempts to curtsy in her seat, her long dark hair swishing about. “She’s a monster at hip hop and freestyling. It’s amazing.”

Jesy grins at the compliments. “Aw, thank you babe,” she says as she pats Perrie in the cheek in gratitude. “I tried ballet, but people were mean to me and now people want me to make dances for their weddings,” she says with a laugh and downs the remainder of her drink. 

Perrie leans her head against Jesy’s shoulder as Leigh-Anne and Jade seem to be too engrossed with each other to pay any attention to the rest of them. 

“You guys are gonna dance, right?” Jesy looks at Liam and Zayn expectantly. Liam shrugs and Zayn shoves him. 

“Yes, we are,” Zayn announces for Liam as an alarm starts blaring throughout the place and people start cheering. 

“Good.” Jesy simply says and gets on her feet. “Because it’s about to get real good.”

“People of the Underground,” a voice booms all around them. “Are you ready for the Freestyle Hour?!”

Everyone around them cheer and Zayn whoops beside Liam and laughs at Liam’s startled expression. Liam melts into the excitement of the night and feels his body pulsating to the change of lights above them

Jesy pulls Zayn who pulls Liam towards the front of the DJ’s stage, where people are making space for dancers. The alarms fade into Neon Jungle’s ‘Bad Man’, and the people surrounding them start jumping to the beat and hollering. 

As soon as they enter the line of vision of the dancing space, a group of dancers started dancing. Liam thought the Royal’s group numbers were hypnotizing with the way every single person on stage seemed to move as one; he was mistaken. The synchronicity of the steps of these people was the real inspiration. With each stomp and grunt and jump they were like violent waves in an ocean, united and destructive. His heart’s thumping and he can feel his hands shaking. He wants to be in there, wants to feel a part of that unity. 

At some point, Jesy slips away from their side and joins a group, fiercely leading them through a half-choreographed, half-freestyled number. Liam feels like he can fly and start dancing in the air above them. Zayn keeps leaning into him, his mantra of ‘This is sick!’ growing more and more excited as more people join the fray. 

Liam’s filled to the brim with energy that he knows has to be released. As Zayn tugs his hoodie’s sleeve, Liam wholeheartedly gives in. He gives in to the rhythm and the dance and the feeling of a boy smiling up at him like he’s the answer to the Dance Gods and anything he believes in. 

And he dances without a care. He dances recklessly, egged on by the crowd and the songs and Zayn. He dances freely. 

And he does so without a spot of alcohol in his body, only the fact that he was doing what he loves most inebriating his body.

* * *

 

Zayn has to eventually rip him away from the dancefloor, saying that the train will stop running soon and they have to go. He looks rather remorseful about it if Liam’s paying close enough attention. They’re really close, they have been all night, drinking in each other, hands grasping away at what they can’t during the day, have kept to themselves for long enough. 

They don’t kiss though, even though Liam’s knees want to go wobbly at the thought of it happening. And he really wants it to happen. 

But they’re entering the train and they’re still leaning on each other, acting like a kiss might just happen but not thinking about it that much. They grab hold of the first railing they can find, not willing to sit down just yet in the hopes of keeping each other on their toes. They’re pretty good at being on their toes. The closeness completely sobers Liam up, even if the adrenaline of the night keeps him reeling and keening for more. Liam thinks he’ll always want more after this. 

Just then, Zayn’s talking about the Liam’s contemporary piece and Liam can barely concentrate on it, just thinking about how awesome it would be to kiss him right then and there. 

“As I was saying, I really think some freestyle could go along well for the solo choreography一Oh! Hey, Jesy,” Zayn interrupts his own argument when he spots her while leaning against one of the railings. 

“Hey guys,” she says, waving at them as they approach her. “Don’t tell me you’re also stalkers as well as bloody great dancers.”

Zayn laughs and Liam smiles. Zayn sits by the seat next to her and Liam plops down next to Zayn. 

“You’ve got us,” Zayn groans and looks at Liam. “Think we’re gonna get sacked for blowing our covers?”

“What? From the Stalking business?” Liam asks and Zayn nods, bottom lip between his teeth to stop himself from laughing. “Highly doubt it, we’re the best at it.”

Jesy scoffs and they laugh when Zayn starts spluttering out loud. Zayn asks her what her stop is and she reveals it’s the same one as theirs.

“Look at that, we’re closer than you think,” Zayn exclaims and winks at Jesy.

Liam squirms around in his seat but his smile is still in place which is, well. “Perhaps it was fate.”

“Yeah, or this city is too small,” Jesy complains, knocking her fist against the metal railing lightly.

“Don’t forget the cold,” Zayn adds. Jesy concurs with a hum. “Lucky you have someone to warm you up at night, right?” Zayn teases. Jesy blushes and shoves Zayn’s laughing face away from her. Liam pretends not to be thinking about Zayn warming her, or anyone else for that matter, up.

They continue their banter until the train’s calling their stop and they clamber off the car together in a huddle.

Jesy lifts a handful of snow and throws it into Zayn’s back as they’re walking and Zayn howls. Liam laughs as Zayn runs after her and catches her and gracefully throws her into a mound of snow only for Zayn to follow suit. Liam offers them both a hand to get up and ends up with a face full of snow from both of them. He sputters about, spitting it out, much to Jesy’s amusement.

Liam trots away and Zayn and Jesy get up and attempt to throw him more ice, instead it falling between them like glitter. The streetlight creates a kaleidoscope of snow in the air and Liam is constantly fascinated by it and keeps throwing it aimlessly even when they cease their playing around. He lets it tangle itself on his eyelashes, grinning like a kid that’s allowed to play in the snow for the first time ever without supervision. 

Zayn’s hobbling about so as not to fall and Jesy slips twice, grabbing hold of Liam the second time. 

The entrance to their building comes into view and he announces it to Jesy. 

“That’s ours,” Liam points to the window looking out of the third floor to the street. 

“Well, I live just two more streets down, so I better go right on home,” she says blowing on her fingerless-gloves to warm up. Her cheeks are rosy with play and cold. 

“You should come up for some tea,” Zayn suggests. “Warm you up before you go home.”

Liam stares at Zayn’s eager face and he feels something slowly deflate. 

“Nah, a late supper’s waiting for me,” Jesy comments. “I had a good time, though. Thanks.”

“You sure you don’t wanna come up for tea?” Zayn insists one more time and the feeling that Liam’s been feeling just lodges itself in his throat until he has to clear it. 

“I’m gonna go and head up,” Liam says and Jesy and Zayn stare at him curiously. “It was nice meeting you Jess,” he continues in a rush and barely spares a look at Zayn before he starts almost running up to their flat.

Liam’s feet are like lead stomping up the stairs. He feels like his throat is constricting and drowning with hopelessness and this time he can't seem to shove it away. He takes a deep breath and enters the threshold. He goes into the small kitchen he’s been sharing with Zayn, a doodle of Liam in an apron making pancakes decorating the fridge. Liam hunches over the counter, feeling like when you get up from the bed after spending too much time there and like you're about to blackout. 

His spiraling thoughts come to a pause when Zayn opens the entrance door, cheeks and tip of his nose slightly redder than before and snow adorning his eyelashes. 

He flashes a smile to Liam and Liam has to suck in a breath to gather back his wits. 

Liam stands straight, his hands grasped tightly behind him in fear they’ll begin shaking and betray his composure. “So,” he says giving Zayn a thin smile that anyone could see through. “How’d it go with Jesy?”

Zayn, who’s in the process of shedding his trench coat and leaving all his winter kit on the back of the sofa, looks at Liam funny. He’s always giving Liam funny looks that he doesn't know what to do with. “She declined my offer for tea,” Zayn replies with a short shrug. “Had to go home to the husband, she said.”

This has Liam frowning. Did that mean that they were friends? Together? Having an affair? There are too many hypotheticals for Liam and he can't seem to figure anything out. 

Liam is suddenly aware of the stretching silence between them and he looks back at Zayn only to find him regarding Liam while sitting on of the two bar stools across from Liam. His chin is propped up on his hands and his precious brown eyes that deserve to be gems meet Liam's with unspoken certainty. 

“You okay?” Zayn mumbles, his tiredness seeping through his Bradford lilt and Liam can only nod because it sounds more like Zayn asking him to let him in.

“Yeah,” Liam finds himself saying and leaning on his arms and quickly pinching Zayn's jaw. His voice sounds more hoarse than he’d like, but the small pout Zayn gives him in response of the light physical contact makes him lighter. “I had a great time tonight, thank you,” Liam gives back, willing to return his interest with gratitude.

“It's nothing,” Zayn says as he ducks his head. “You always make everything fun and easy.”

Liam almost scoffs in disbelief but for once he lets the compliment wash over him. He feels Zayn’s hands prying his apart in front of him to take each into his. “So really the one who should be saying thank you should be me,” Zayn admits squeezing Liam’s hands. 

Liam really wants to kiss him then. He wants to lean forward a bit more and meet Zayn’s wonderful lips, explore all that Zayn offers and do the same in return. 

But all he can do instead is ask “Are you going to take a shower?”

Zayn laughs and nods, slowly withdrawing his touch and warmth from Liam’s hands. 

“Do you think there's any warm water left?” Zayn asks while retreating into his room to look for a clean change of clothes. 

“I dunno but there should be.”

“Great,” Zayn exclaims and locks himself in the bathroom.

Liam has to shake himself from his stupor, not wanting to linger on the moment that he so obviously let slip through the fabrics of his time on this earth. 

Perhaps he’s being a tad melodramatic.

Liam flops down on his bed and groans. 

If there’s a time for Liam to feel like an angsty pining teenager, it's now. 

He once again banishes the thoughts that revolve around Zayn. Let them pester him in his dreams and in his moments he’s alone and vulnerable. 

He prefers to aggressively hum along to Jason Derulo, carefully avoiding the flow he’d felt with Zayn at the Underground. Definitely not a good time to do that. Definitely a good time to organize his sock drawer. 

He hears a thump from within the bathroom and he’s about to call out in worry when he stops and thinks that it's not his problem. Instead, Liam matches his long lost black socks and untangles his white tights.

Finally, the shower’s being turned off and the bathroom door unlocking. Liam grabs his clothes and trudges to take his wash, only to come face-to-face with a shirtless Zayn drying his hair with his towel by the door.

“Oh,” Zayn exclaims and they do an awkward dance to let the other pass through. For two professional dancers in a world-famous ballet company, they aren’t that graceful in real life. Liam laughs uneasily and steps away so Zayn can pass. 

“After you,” he murmurs and Zayn walks out of the loo. 

“There’s still warm water, just so you know,” Zayn says, his head hung as he hides an uncomfortable smile.

“That’s-- uh, good to know,” Liam manages. He fiddles with the tie of his clean pants in his hands and shuffles around Zayn to get into the bathroom. Zayn’s now staring at Liam and he looks like he has something to say but Zayn merely clamps his mouth shut with a frown.  “Cheers then,” Liam says before Zayn can gather his thoughts and feels around for the doorknob. Zayn’s eyes flash with something but he doesn’t have the time to do so, the door’s already closed.

Liam leans against the door and stops himself from hitting his head against the wooden surface. Just as is starting to chastise himself inwardly for the awkwardness, Zayn knocks on the door with urgency.

Liam inhales and turns to open said barrier. 

“Did you forget something?”

Liam barely has time to take in Zayn’s lip being gnawed nervously when he opens the door and faces him.

Zayn's grabbing his face and kissing him. 

Their teeth clash together but Liam manages to grasp Zayn's sides, his fingers wrinkling the plain white shirt Zayn sports. 

It's the tip of Zayn's tongue running over Liam’s bottom lip, a lip trapped between Liam’s teeth in response, and a rough exhale that neither knows who originated it but expressed that it's happening it's happening it's happening.

And then Zayn slows down, pressing his lips once, twice, thrice the charm unto Liam’s and he lets Liam's face go before leaning his forehead against the other’s. 

“That's-,” Zayn pauses, his voice a breathy rumble that has Liam’s toes curling in excitement. “That's what I forgot.”

Zayn's lips ghost over Liam’s. Liam really wants Zayn to lean into the kiss again, already thirsty for more, already addicted to the feeling of Zayn overwhelming his mind and just quieting him down. But Zayn leans away.

Liam’s eyes open and Zayn swallows down something else he seems to have wanted to say before walking back to his room and locking the door behind him. 

_ Fuck _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyyyyyyyyyyy talk to me on tumblr @thearcherballet or comment below what you thought of it :)))))))) (if you want a link to the kehlani remix i mention let me know there!)

**Author's Note:**

> did you like it? hate it? let me know in the comments or message me on tumblr or twitter @thearcherballet


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